Grif. I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams

Possess your fancy.

Kath.

Bid the musick leave,

[Musick ceases.

Do you note,

They are harsh and heavy to me.

Pat.

How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden? How long her face is drawn? How pale she looks, And of an earthy cold? Mark you her eyes?

Grif. She is going, wench; pray, pray.

Pat.

Heaven comfort her!

Knowing, she will not lose her wonted greatness,
To use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel.

Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon; My haste made me unmannerly: There is staying

A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you.

Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith: But thie fellow

Let me ne'er see again.

[Exeunt Griffith and Messenger.

Re-enter GRIFFITH with CAPUCIUS.

If my sight fail not,

You should be lord ambassador from the emperor,
My royal nephew, and your name Capucius,-

Cap. Madam, the same, your servant.

Kath.

O my lord, The times, and titles, now are alter'd strangely With me, since first you knew me. But, I pray you, What is your pleasure with me?

Noble lady,

Cap. First, mine own service to your grace; the next, The king's request that I would visit you; Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me Sends you his princely commendations,

And heartily entreats you take good comfort.

Kath. O my good lord, that comfort comes too late;

'Tis like a pardon after execution :

That gentle physick, given in time, had cur'd me;
But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers.
How does his highness?

Cap.

Madam, in good health.

Kath. So may he ever do! and ever flourish, When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name

Banish'd the kingdom!-Patience, is that letter,

I caus'd you write, yet sent away?

Put.

No, madam.

[Giving it to Katharine.

Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver

This to my lord the king.

Cap.

Most willing, madam.

Kath. In which I have commended to his good

ness

The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter:

The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her !-
Beseeching him, to give her virtuous breeding;
(She is young, and of a noble modest nature;
I hope, she will deserve well;) and a little

To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him,
Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition
Is, that his noble grace would have some pity
Upon my wretched women, that so long,
Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully:
Of which there is not one, I dare avow,
(And now I should not lie,) but will deserve,
For virtue, and true beauty of the soul,
For honesty, and decent carriage,

A right good husband, let him be a noble ;

And, sure, those men are happy that shall have them.
The last is, for my men ;-they are the poorest,
But poverty could never draw them from me ;-
That they may have their wages duly paid them,
And something over to remember me by;

If heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life,
And able means, we had not parted thus.

These are the whole contents :-And, good my lord, By that you love the dearest in this world,

As you wish christian peace to souls departed,

Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king To do me this last right.

Cap.

By heaven, I will;

Or let me lose the fashion of a man!

Kath. I thank you, honest lord. Remember me

In all humility unto his highness:

Say, his long trouble now is passing

Out of this world: tell him, in death I bless'd him,
For so I will.-Mine eyes grow dim.-Farewell,
My lord.-Griffith, farewell.-Nay, Patience,
You must not leave me yet. I must to bed;
Call in more women.-When I am dead, good wench,
Let me be us'd with honour; strew me over
With maiden flowers, that all the world may know
I was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me,
Then lay me forth: although unqueen'd, yet like
A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.

I can no more.

[Exeunt, leading Katharine.

ACT V. SCENE I.

A Gallery in the Palace.

Enter GARDINER Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a torch before him, met by Sir THOMAS LOVELL,

Gar. It's one o'clock, boy, is't not?

Boy..

It hath struck.

Gar. These should be hours for necessities, Not for delights 34; times to repair our nature With comforting repose, and not for us

To waste these times.-Good hour of night, sir

Thomas!

Whither so late?

Lov.

Came you

from the king, my lord?

Gar. I did, sir Thomas; and left him at primero " With the duke of Suffolk.

Lov.

I must to him too,

Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave

Gar. Not yet, sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter?

It seems, you are in haste: and if there be

No great offence belongs to't, give your friend
Some touch of your late business: Affairs, that walk
(As, they say, spirits do,) at midnight, have

In them a wilder nature, than the business
That seeks despatch by day.

Lov.

My lord, I love you;